Grey Staircase Up or Down?

So I have to ask myself, if I am pulling away filters from each step as I wake up, what do I start with?  What is the first filter you need to move? What would that look like, is it pulling a rod attached to blinds?  Pulling a cloth across a window? Is it slipping lens before your eyes and losing the color blue.  I always imagine our filters are woven fabric used to filter water.  Giant black tendrels weaving in and out of each other.  Small enough, and you could live on the threads, and grow your whole life on one section of the filter.  Large enough and you are forced into the weave.  You push up against the cloth and are pinned as everything flows around you.  How many smaller things are flowing around the obstruction in the way, and do they notice anything different in the way they see the world?  Do they seem faster than those next to them?  Do they rush forward towards something, away from something?  Filters are odd things to think about.

So does my day start out with me remembering nothing? Or everything.  Am I removing all of the filters I’ve learned how to remove or add to make my life what it seems to be about.  Or is the day started like a saved game or started movie, taken off pause or reloaded.  I’ve gone off track, as I tend to do.  I’m sure I was going somewhere with that thought, but I don’t know exactly where it was going.

One thing that I know that I am in love with is the feeling of stretching out my legs when I wake up.  Something about that intense first feeling of everything pulling out.  It is like potential, something building.  They are often sore, and weary from the day before, but always energized for that first moment.  I’ve started the day with so many stretches, they are all blending together.  What goes into the thought that remembers that my body needs to move? Is it just basic biology.  Is my body just knowing that moving the legs first thing is the best way to keep myself safe?  Like baby deer or giraffe that are born and start walking.  You know the first thing your day may call for is to run.  Or to jump or dance. Or just to lay in peace and happiness and just rest and stretch.  What if we are pulling our legs out to pull the vessels in our legs longer so that the negative pressure caused blood to pull faster into the extremities.  What if this life was that much of a machine.  What if it is all pressure gradients and volumes.  What if we are a math problem, what is the equation that we would write out to explain each movement in our day.  How would we wrap our mind around the variables?  Can we take each moment and wake each portion of our body and mind at such a speed that we can see each letter and number etched out to pull the equation together.  Another day is beginning, and I think I could lay here a few more minutes if I need to.